Alexithymia
by Space-Weazel
Summary: When Gohan finds himself on the dawn of his 35th birthday with a teenage daughter, a wife that ignores him, and a job that's made him world weary, he seeks to find the lesser traveled path where he left himself behind. A PiccoloxGohan story.
1. Chapter 1

He knew it was wrong, but he did it anyway.

It wasn't that he was particularly a bad kid; in fact he was quite the opposite. Anyone who knew him or his family for the matter could testify to this. He always did as he was told and met each and every expectation that was placed upon his shoulders- except for this one.

How, he knew for a fact that certain things could never happen. For instance, a fish cannot grow wings and fly simply because it wants to, nor can the Earth spin any faster because it feels the need; and in this manner, he knew that what he wanted cold never happen. The idea was preposterous and he didn't even want it that badly anyway. Besides, there were much better, much cooler things to do now, anyway.

Yeah, what did he need this for? He wasn't a little kid anymore! That's right! He was going to be in high school soon and therefore he was all grown up. Now there were bigger and better things to do, like mingle and girls and the city and new classes. There was no time for silly little distractions.

But the distractions said otherwise.

Now, what people must realize is that Piccolo is not a pushy man. He really isn't. Intense at times, yes, but not the type to interfere with anything unless it absolutely has to be done and no one else has the fortitude to do it.

Of course I never made an effort to push him, well not in the way I would define the word 'push'. Likewise, he never tried to push me, and to be honest; I don't even think the thought crossed his mind for so much as a passing moment.

But I suppose that's ok. I mean my life would be so much more complicated if I acted on my thoughts all the time. It's kind of funny now.

Because I'm not a teenager anymore.

And my biggest fear in life is no longer getting a bad grade or not being able to talk to girls.

No, how I have much bigger, much sillier things to worry about.

Like my daughter getting knocked up by some two-bit punk or my wife bouncing the checks.

But it's all good now.

Because things are going to change.

And I can't quite let this one die out.

I woke up that morning in the same fashion that I always did. I was awake an hour before my wife had stirred and she still had that god awful frumpy pink nightgown on and a facial mask that she hoped was working wonders on her face. Meanwhile, she looked like something that was stuck to the inside of the garbage can. I stumbled out of bed, grabbed a towel and took my shower. My showers have always been the most frivolous part of my day, mainly because no one bothers me when I'm in there. After that it was all downhill. I would go to work, which I actually enjoyed half the time until some snot-nosed punk with a bad disposition and a face full of acne tried to make my job harder- and succeeded. Then there was the trip home and dinner, which was generally good until my daughter peeps up about the nice boy in her class that I have personally taught and know that he'll never so much as get within twenty feet of her unless he wants to be a eunuch.

When I go to sleep, I wake up and do it all. Over. Again.

When I wake up tomorrow, things are going to change.

You have no idea.

* * *

**Notes I've decided to take the ball and run in this case. Yes, this story will be a P-Gh romance fic. It's going to be a complicated little thing, full of romance and angst and longing and tiny cute moments. It may also move to the adult version of this site in later chapters, if you know what I mean.**


	2. Stairway to Heaven

_"There's a feeling I get when I look to the west  
And my spirit is crying for leaving  
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees  
And the voices of those who stand looking_

_And she's buying a stairway to Heaven"_ – Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin

* * *

Nobody could ever feel this way

I stayed in bed longer than I had intended today. My wife actually beat me to the bathroom to freshen up, which kind of put a damper on my day from the beginning, but I figured it was just as well. When I went downstairs, the coffee was already brewing and my daughter was awake watching some teen music channel on the television with a giant bowl of cereal in front of her. I was about to yell at her to get her school clothes on before I realized it was Saturday. Saturday. That meant that I would be spending the day grading papers while my wife and daughter went to the salon and out shopping and doing all the little indulgent things that I use to with them.

It's okay though, I'm glad they can do those things. It gives me a lot of time by myself to think. You'd have to be fooling yourself to think that I honestly spend all damned day with my red pen in hand. No, that'll never happen so long as I have blood running in my veins.

It's on days like these that I often find my mind wandering. I try not to think of anything specific. It ruins my mood when I do that. I do find myself thinking of waterfalls and long stretches of grassy fields. Sometimes I hide away in myself to find times and places like that. It makes getting through the day that much easier.

I know I'm using "I" a lot, but believe me, this is the first time in almost as long as I can remember that I've actually taken the time to think about myself. From a very young age, there has always been someone there that needed me. At times that someone was the entire planet. I couldn't let six billion people down because of the way I felt, so I shoved myself to the back of my mind and put on a strong face for all to see.

Now look at me.

I have the ideal life.

I'm a success.

I have a bright, blushing young daughter who adores me and I am married to a beautiful wife whose father owes me his title. My job? My job is great. I teach Literature to advanced kids and am head of my department. I'm set to be tenured by next year; this is great! Yes, my life is wonderful. I'm a lucky man, aren't I?

I suppose.

Somehow it all feels phony. It's like I'm playing the part and I've done it for so long that I can't even hear the music anymore. I should be happy, one of the happiest men in the world even. But I'm not.

I sigh as I open the fridge and find nothing but Videl's nutritious, vitamin and protein packed bits of cardboard and my daughter's sugar-fest there to greet me. Saturday was also our grocery-shopping day and we were at the end of our rope. Discouraged I reached for the chocolate peanut butter blast cereal my daughter was eating only to discover that she'd emptied the box and returned it to the top of the fridge. Somehow I was not surprised. The next thought that crossed my mind was that I desperately needed to get a start on the surplus of work that had been unceremoniously stacked before me in a raging heap. It would have been awe-inspiring if I didn't know for a fact that I was to be left alone all day to do it. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I minded doing dishes and laundry and generally keeping up the place. I had always helped do those things from as early on as I can remember. It was just that I was the only one who did these things and coming home to a mess that I had previously straightened up day after day after day starts to crush your spirit after awhile.

I could have hired a maid, but that would be too easy.

My wife emerged from our bedroom with a towel wrapped around her head, a bathrobe clinging to her shoulders and her face drawn in a dismayed expression- but she still had her lipstick on, crimson. I greeted her as cheerfully as I could muster; she gave a grunt in reply and made a beeline to the coffee maker. I shrugged and grabbed a granola bar from one of the dozens of identical boxes in the cabinets. Blueberry flavored cardboard in the morning titillates me. I said hello to my daughter next, but she was too caught up in her music videos to hear me.

I had to get out; it was a desperate sort of thing.

I told my family I was going for a walk through the woods by our house. I didn't pretend to think they heard me because I knew my presence wouldn't be missed for a while. Pulling my jacket off the coat rack, I departed as quickly, making my way through the grasses and brush that lead into the forest. I knew where I was going this morning and no one was here to stop me.

I had only been walking for a few moments before I felt my mind start to drift and I thought of all those pleasant things that I use to have. Sunny days in the fields, the feel of the cool water against my back after a long day of training, the way the wind whipped through my hair mid-flight. I hadn't flown in a long time. Videl insisted upon buying a car and we've just been using that. Shaking my head, I took to the air; it felt better than I ever remembered. There's something about flying that makes everything in your life that seems so bad and stressful just melt away like spent candle wax.

So, I was flying around the treetops and around the brush and rock formations for a good hour before I noticed something. It was the something that I had been looking for.

I knew I couldn't surprise him, I never could, but I was still going to try. I could see it on his face now, that slight raise of the brow and upward pull of his lips when he saw me. It was going to be magnificent. I flew lower until it was safe to free fall to the ground. I landed a bit more unsteadily than I thought I would. I had gotten a bit rusty lately. I moved as stealthily and quickly as I could. He was right in front of me now, right in the clearing where the rock pool was. He was going to get a drink of water and I was going to mysteriously appear from the shadows and we'd catch up on old times- hell, we'd live in old times.

But he didn't.

He turned and looked directly at me before taking a sip from his canteen. He didn't even face me. Ouch. Disappointed, I slouched out from the flora and lowly crept over to his side. He didn't speak to me for a few moments, but I could tell he was happy to see me. We stoop for what felt like forever before he uttered a single word.

"What brings you out here?" He asked. His tone was not angry or bitter or cold, yet it held something behind it, something unrecognizable.

I tried to shrug it off and told him that I just needed to see my friend again, that I just really wanted to talk. He seemed to accept this at first until he asked what was wrong. I thought it was silly for him to ask such a question. It wasn't like I only came to him when something was wrong. Did I? He told me I hadn't been this way in years, at least not for longer than a few minutes of passing conversation.

I felt rotten, like an apple that someone had taken a bite out of and tossed aside. With my shoulders hung, I tossed a simple "Goodbye, Mr. Piccolo." under my breath as I turned to leave.

But he stopped me. His hand was wrapped lightly around my arm.

"What did you call me?" His voice seemed soft in that moment.

"Mr. Piccolo?" I whispered, my voice wavering like it hadn't in years.

He seemed to smile at that, which was a comfort. "I'm not sure which one I like more, Pic' or Mr. Piccolo." The slight sarcastic edge to his voice put me at ease and I felt like I could look the man in the eyes again.

We sat and talked for hours after that. Well, I did most of the talking, but just as well. I told him about my job and how my family was doing. Pan was really interested in joining some of the spring sports teams and Videl was, well, I really didn't know where she went half of the time, but I thought the word 'out' covered that thoroughly enough. I'd occasionally reference one of the epic, fate-deciding battles we fought together, which put a nice haze of nostalgia over us.

But time is a cruel mistress. The daylight was fading quickly and I had gladly spent it all out here. It was the wrong choice, I know, but I needed this more than the car needed waxing or the rugs beating.

As I stood and dusted my pants off, Piccolo stood as well. I suppose he was going to go back to his cave and spend the rest of the night in quiet meditation. For an instant I thought of asking to stay with him tonight, but that would have been ridiculous. I stuck my hands in my pockets mainly because I didn't know what to do with them. He was standing there, looking at me, waiting.

"Are you going to do it?" He spoke and I had to look away and laugh gently to break my awkward silence.

"Do what?" I couldn't just not answer him.

"What you came out here to do, kid." His brow twitched; a sign of growing agitation.

I stalled for as long as I could. I told him that he was being silly and that I got everything off my chest that I needed to. The truth was I didn't have the guts to ask.

"Mhh." He nodded and closed his eyes. "Then you better go back home. Your family is waiting for you."

For some reason that hurt more than I thought it could have.

He had already started walking away before I snapped back to my senses.

"Wait!" I called after him. He hesitated but otherwise did not reply. "If I could just-" My inhibitions bit down on my tongue for me. This is pathetic. I'm a thirty-year-old man-child who can't even cough up a few words to save my own ass. And he was staring at me. God, those eyes were staring at me like I have something smeared across my face. How can he expect me to talk when he's looking at me so intently?

"Would it be okay if I justtt—" My mouth could have spit up sand and bile as my throat constricted upon itself. I could feel the acid boiling in my stomach, making me feel more nauseated than anxious. "Stay and give you a hug?"

Dear Kami, I'm a loser.

"A hug?" He was both skeptical and unamused. "You never felt the need to 'ask' before."

"Well, I guess I am now." This was going well.

He made a noncommittal grunt and shifted so that we were facing each other. "There's not much I can do to stop you."

I was four again, sniffling and sobbing about a nightmare that I had and that my daddy was gone. I was wearing that same petticoat with that stupid little hat and my knees and elbows were all bruised and banged up—and I was going to go hug Piccolo and he would make it all better. It's great, I know.

Hugging piccolo has always been a lot like hugging a wild bear. Even if he lets you, you get the distinct impression that neither does he like it, but also that he can't wait for you to let go and potentially rip you to shreds. But I did hug him. I felt the muscles in his stomach tense as I virtually collapsed against his chest. I didn't cry though. I couldn't do that to him right now. I was suspended around his neck like a rag doll begging not to be abandoned. His scent hit me like a ton of bricks. I loved it, the musty, woody smell combined with the arid desert air. It's intoxicating; believe me. One can get lost in it.

Before I realized what was happening, he was trying to push me away. So soon? I opened my eyes only to understand what I had done. I did it to my wife all the time; I must have been confused. I was kissing the area between his neck and shoulder. It was such a little action; it wasn't really anything.

But the flush of his cheeks made me realize that maybe, just maybe, that this was a little more than anything.

When I finally let him go, I got that tingling sensation over my entire body. It's not butterflies; it's more like every part of me had fallen asleep at the same time, but I was compelled to stand, lest I collapse in a heap at his feet.

"Okay." I said and folded my arms over my stomach. I thought I was going to puke if I did anything to ruin the moment we had. Or maybe it was only my moment. "I better go."

Piccolo said nothing as I retreated into the woods. His cheeks were still burning as far as I could tell. I had to go before something bad happened. Something bad always happens when I get too anxious over anything.

Dinner went the same way that it always did. Pan spent the night at a friend's house and left wifey-poo and me at the dinner table. Alone. Again. We had a rather bland dinner of baked cod, peas, and baby carrots. I could have choked if I wasn't so hungry. She was still prim and proper from work. This wasn't the same woman I fell in love with and married. The Videl I knew was wild and determined with a fighting spirit and a no nonsense attitude. Oh, how age has withered my girl into what sits before me. She's still beautiful, but it's the price she paid for it that hurts me. Her lips are still as full as they were when she was young, her eyes brilliant blue pools, even her ass is still as firm and buxom in her pencil skirt as it ever was. Yet, all the passion and desire I held for her is fading. Perhaps she lost interest in me first. Maybe when Pan moves out we'll sign the papers. Maybe not. There are too many questions in the legion of what-ifs that we live in.

It was nighttime that I lived for. When my dreams seized my body enough to rid my mind of all these stupid fears that I collect.

In the end, that's all I really wanted today.

A climax, a release.

Tomorrow, he may even join me.


	3. Don't Underestimate the Morphine Drip

"_You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to save you from your old ways" – When You Were Young by The Killers_

* * *

Why are the mornings always so slow on Sundays? I can smell what's left of a burnt pot of coffee and the aerosol hairspray my wife had flamboyantly coated the room with. On days like these, my first coherent thought is 'fuck' followed immediately by 'goddamnit, I hate when this happens'. If I told you why, you wouldn't question my motives for waking up and keeping my eyes shut.

There's an interesting thing about my house- it's sealed in plastic. Well, not really, but it might as well be. I'm afraid to touch the hardwood floors with my feet lest I leave footprints in my wake. So I put on my slippers, still with my eyes closed. The bathrobe goes on too. Heaven forbid my wife see my bare torso. I could tell by the smell of slightly burning hair and some strange chemicals she was probably still fussing with her hair. I don't get it. She was already beautiful. To each his own.

I hear her say something to me passively. I'm guessing she wants me to take out last night's trash before I leave for work or maybe she wants me to feed the dog. I hate that dog, it doesn't even come to me when I call _not unlike someone else. _She goes back to her vanity and I slowly drag myself to a stand, my back popping into place as it does. I feel like an old man in the morning when my joints realign.

I love showering. You have no idea.

Just the feel of the scorching hot water sets me on edge. Despite popular belief, we have excellent water pressure up here; the city folk don't know what they're missing. I suppose this is my moment of vanity for the day. Washing away the cares of yesterday to the scent of Mountain Springs soap. I love casting my mind wherever it may land. She can have her make up and hair gloss and lip spray and coffee . . . toast mhh. . . aftershave. . . alarm not quite ringing to maracas cell phone what? What, really?

Why is aftershave strangely erotic; but more importantly why is there a cell phone in my bathroom? Who takes a phone in here, honestly?

My wife does.

I could hear her bolt up and clamber to the door with complete disregard to my privacy. Why does she do this? It's not like it would be that hard to knock on the door or, unthinkable as it might be, return the call later? And why is she looking at me like that? Why is the shower door made of glass? She is not opening the door, she is not, no, no, no, and here is where my day goes bad.

It's not like my masturbating in the shower is a public access channel. She just barges in here and is fully aware of what I'm doing and proceeds to interrupt. I thought she wanted her stupid phone. Now what is she doing? Yes, I am very aware that I have a penis and so are you. No, no I am completely unaware of what I'm doing in my own shower- oh, our shower, my mistake. No, I am not going to scrub the shower clean after, I don't see you doing anything after you bleed all over it for a week. What? I'm not a pervert. Don't you even pretend to act offended and disgusted. There was a time when- oh sure, sure, it's all my fault. I don't even know what you're going on about now. Maybe if you'd stop covering your mouth with your freshly manicured hand then I could respond to you. What! No, I don't do this in every bathroom I'm in, what's wrong with you. Seriously? I'm not even listening anymore.

"Maybe if you didn't treat me like a damn disease I wouldn't have to self-service."

Well that shut her up.

At least she's going away. I'll probably have to sit through some dull conversation about this later and she'll want me to apologize.

And clean the shower.

She forgot her phone. I wonder if she even notices.

I really want to go see Pic. I don't think I can handle much more stupidity this early in the morning.

I don't even care about what I'm wearing today. If one must know, it's sweatpants and a T-shirt, both with my high school's logo. Go ahead and laugh all you want, but I work there. It's been awhile since I've worn orange.

I stop downstairs to greet my daughter. She's plugged into her headphones. I'd have to leave a message. My wife left and took the car. I didn't have _anything_ I wanted to do anyway. Just the thought of what she. Ugh. Best not to think of that now. I've got to get out of this tile and disinfectant bath.

So I grabbed the toast Videl left in the toaster while she was trying to get as far away from me as physically possible. It may have been cold but it was food nevertheless. I didn't feel like eating but I did anyway. Maybe I could have choked.

The grass is decidedly unpleasant today. And it's cold and dark outside. What time is it? I reached into my pocket only to find my wife's cell phone. I must have grabbed it out of habit. The bathroom is still no place for a phone. It said that it was 9:00am.

Nine in the morning and dreary and all I want to do is curl up and crawl back to sleep but I was already outside and well past the point of no return. It's okay though. I'm going to go to him.

When people say that their feet carry them places and they don't remember how they got there, it's true. My feet do it all the time. I found myself sitting at Pic's waterfall on a moss-covered rock overlooking the water. I felt like a weird mermaid. But I waited for him to find me. I knew he would; I kept my ki slightly elevated so he would have to notice.

As I predicted, he was there within five minutes and with a confused look on his face.

"What brings you out here in the morning?" That raspy voice of his forces me to pay attention.

I'm like a dog to a whistle.

I stammered something stupid out like I just felt like being here or that I missed the view. He wasn't going to buy it, I knew that from the start, so he sat down next to me, the thick cloth of his cape sweeping around him as he did.

But he doesn't look directly at me; I think he knows just how awkward this is.

We sat in silence for a while. Well, he did anyway. I kept fidgeting around like a ADD child playing with his cape and making small, soft sounds trying to force the bile out of my mouth just long enough to say a couple words.

"I need to talk to you" I said. My throat felt like constricting. This was stupid.

"I gathered that." He calmly glanced over at me, his endlessly dark eyes still had their characteristic scowl attached.

"Do you ever wish you had done things differently?" I felt the stereotypical after school special ploy sweeping over me. It damn near made me nauseous.

He paused for a moment in recollection before answering, "Things happened for a reason."

"And what if that's not good enough?" There was more to this than me.

"Then you can either accept what you have or. . ." His voice faded out.

"Or?"

"What is this about, Gohan?"

I choked when he said that and tried to cover it up with a laugh. Kami I hate how transparent I am to him.

"I'm not completely blind, Gohan."

"And you're certainly not deaf." That was such a horrible joke. I flinched while saying it.

He did not seem amused.

"Things come much easier when you tell the truth. Lying has never been your strong suit."

I had to look away from him. This whole thing was dishonest. Why change now?

"So you know—"

"I know what you know, Gohan." Well that went and complicated the hell out of things.

I really wanted to have a good day today.

"Well, what do you think of this?" I interlocked my fingers over my knee just so I wouldn't fidget. I didn't know what else to do with them.

"I think you should go home before you hurt yourself, kid." No.

No.

No.

No, I will not go home and crawl under the covers like I want to.

No, I will not go home and make things easier because I'm starting to really like complicated because everything up until this point in my life has been so horribly complicated and frustrating and in Technicolor that I felt that my organs were going to explode and spew vitamin supplements and spinach into this disgusting, cacophonous catastrophe that I have the fortitude to call my life.

So I said the only thing that made sense. "No"

His eyebrow ridge perked up.

"I can't."

"You have to."

"No I don't" Hey, Five Year Old Gohan called, he wants his comebacks back.

"Nothing good will come of this."

"Bullshit."

And then he started to walk away. Why does everyone leave me when I start to show the slightest hint of backbone?

When I grabbed him, he stopped like a moose in the headlights. Just staring, waiting.

"I need you to be here right now." Don't cry, don't cry, you're not that depressed Gohan. You really aren't and you don't need to act out because the little old rain cloud ruined your parade.

"I'm doing this for you, Gohan." He tried to get away from me again, but his heart wasn't in it. It was like holding back a kid from getting a shot.

"Stop trying to protect me. I'm not a child anymore and I can handle myself." I let my power slip for just an instant so he could see what I meant. I'm getting old.

"If you want to be an adult, then act like one!" And he would have taken my head off with that snap if it wasn't so rudely crafted onto my shoulders. "Look at yourself, Gohan!" So I did. I didn't like what I saw. "You come here so you can forget what is behind you." He took me by the shoulders and pointed me towards my home. I could just barely make the dim electric glow out in the morning. He put his lips right next to my ear; I had no choice but to listen. "I won't let you rip yourself apart like this. You'll destroy yourself."

"Then let me." I don't care anymore. I just don't want to go back and live out my part.

I waited for an answer that never came.

Oh, I knew he had one, and it was a good one knowing him, but he said nothing.

Nothing.

I felt broken in that moment.

I needed to be held so badly that I took his arms and placed them loosely around me. It felt so weak but I needed it. After awhile he didn't mind so much and just held me. It was just me and him holding each other on a cool Sunday morning and there was nothing more.

"We could have stayed like this."

"Not forever."

"Do you ever think things will be different?"

And he killed me with his silence.

* * *

Note I'm trying a different sort of style with my writing. What I'm going to try and go for (Eventually) is a very personal and Palahniuk-esque feel. Tell me if you like! Maybe things will shape up, eh?


	4. Scrambled Eggs and Blood Oranges

I wanted someone to ask me why I was covered in my own vomit.

* * *

Have you ever tried to suck in air while kissing someone? They don't like it. I once met someone that tried to suck back. That didn't work either, especially since their lungs were a lot better than mine.

I promise that I'll never do it again.

It was a game for us- fun in its own sick way. Yeah, it was all fun till I figured out just how strong his lungs were.

Lets skip back to breakfast that morning. There were eggs, scrambled with cheese in them, thick, greasy bacon, toast and pancakes stacked like twin statues on either side of three breakfast burritos with two tall glasses of soy milk to wash it down and a handful of breath mints which I swallowed like pills.

Now here we were eating face behind my garage having the time of our lives pressed up against the dirt encrusted siding and I was thinking of what I ate for breakfast.

By the time I hiccuped it was too late to save him.

He didn't have time to pull away before the meat, egg, and milk abomination was artistically rendered in his mouth. He tried to push me away as fast as he could and the rest of my stomach contents ended up all over the front of our shirts.

As he gagged and sputtered I could see the lumps of egg and cheese fall from his mouth to join the half digested toast that was on the ground. He eventually blew his own bile on the ground, too sickened by what happened to keep it down any longer. It was like something out of a horror movie as he stood their with yellow acid dripping off his chin and his face plastered with what could be described as the greenish yellow remainder of rotting cottage cheese.

After his body stopped shaking and he was able to pull himself up from the hunched position with his hands on his knees, he just looked at me.

I have never seen a man look so terrified and perturbed in my entire life.

But the weird thing was, I wanted to laugh. I wanted to laugh because I felt so bad about it that I was certain that I would explode if I had to honestly look him in the eyes and acknowledge what I had done. So I did the only thing I could do and martyred myself on the altar of embarrassment.

I started trying to say something and I thought it was going to be all right. Everything was going to be okay until I saw his face contort and his stomach churn at the very sight of me. He staggered away, turning seven shades of green as he vomited, which was more than I did for him. He left me standing in my own bodily excretions. My formerly pressed, white shirt and my denim jeans were a testament to modern art. He didn't talk to me for three weeks.

And that's why I never kiss on the first date.

* * *

I stayed with Pic for the rest of the morning.

He seemed somewhat less than excited to have me.

I guess he was still having a hard time accepting a lot of things. So was I. I kept trying to convince him that things were going to get better but he was unsure. He told me to 'think about what you're doing'. I did. I have—for a long time now.

I knew for one that my daughter was getting older and she would come to terms with this. Not too long ago she asked me if I still loved mom. I said I did, but I took long enough to answer that I don't think she believed me. She didn't look upset though. We'll talk about it someday, probably soon.

I don't know where Videl goes and I don't pretend to. She is very beautiful. Those blue eyes use to melt me. I'd ask what she does but it scares me to think about it. She has to love me.

But he will still love me. He doesn't have to but he does anyway. Whenever I touch his chest he stops. He doesn't want to but he does. I try kissing him but he doesn't reciprocate. It's not that he's unwilling, he's just conflicted. When I tell him that I want this and that it's okay to feel this way, he starts to cave in little by little. Sometimes he squeezes me gently when I'm in his arms, other times he lets me rest my head on his shoulders and stay there. I could be bold and he would let me, but I'm afraid he'd . . .

. . .I'm afraid he'd leave me too.

But I did it today. I made him feel me. He had to listen. No one ever listens to me, not even my students. He tried to pull back, but I caught him.

I'm a horrible person, if you didn't know.

I had to go after that. Don't think that I hurt him. I could never. I just opened his eyes to how serious I was about this.

He said he would consider it.

Well, he never actually said anything, but I know what he meant.

My wife was home by the time I returned.

Maybe I should have kissed her on the first date.

"Gohan." That tone of voice was reserved only for when I had screwed something up for her. She never forgave me for that one dinner party.

Meh . . .

"Gohan." I don't want to answer you, please think I'm just concentrating and bother me tomorrow.

"Gohan!" Lets put the mask back on, shall we?

"Huh? Oh, what is it Honey?" And the Oscar goes to . . .

"Pay attention when I'm talking to you!" Sir, yes, Sir!

"What's wrong?" If I'm smooth enough, I might get to sleep on the couch tonight.

I found myself sitting at the dinner table with my beautiful wife my more beautiful daughter. I've started to rate beauty depending on how much a person doesn't bitch at me. This could be earth shattering. They both look at me with what I can only guess is resentment.

"Pan, go to your room. Your father and I need to talk."

She rolled her eyes and took a bite out of her roll before she stormed off to her room. There's a lot of pent up rage in that girl.

I could barely hear her door slam.

"Gohan." I looked straight at her crimson smeared lips as she talked. She'd been bleaching that tiny bit of upper lip hair she had.

"We don't talk anymore." She rested her face in her hand and scooted away her dinner plate.

I took another bite of peas. "You do enough talking for the both of us." That would have been clever if she smiled.

"I'm serious Gohan." I almost gave another smart-ass comment before I realized what this talk was about.

"Oh" was the smartest answer I could muster.

"Do you even want this to work?"

"Do you?"

"You can't throw my question back at me."

"You do it to me all the time."

"See? This is what I mean!"

"So I guess you want a straight answer?" My stomach started to churn

"Yes."

"An honest answer?" I could feel myself getting sicker as I coughed out those words.

"Yes."

And then it happened.

"I do if you do, sweetie." And I took another bite of peas.

"I'm not sure about this anymore, Gohan." Really? "We haven't been the same since Pan was in grade school." Stop beating around the bush, that's my tactic. "And with the way things are going now, I don't think there's much left we can do."

"You were serious about me cleaning the shower, weren't you?" Why am I avoiding this conversation? I want this. I want this so much.

She stifled a laugh.

Come on, get angry. Tell me you hate me. Tell me you never want to see me again. Tell me what a fag I am and that you'll take everything I own and move across the country and that I'll never see my daughter again. But not that last part. I don't know what I'd do if I never saw Pan again. You can have her on holidays though.

I know she knows about Pic.

"Gohan . . ." She wiped her eye and smeared her makeup.

She looked at the tablecloth intently for a moment before looking back up at me. Was she crying? Doesn't she know her mascara is going to run? She doesn't care, does she?

A sniffle as she smiled. "If there's another woman, just tell me Gohan." Her face was so flushed.

"What?" How could she not know? "No, no, never."

Well not exactly.

But what woman could ever replace my wife?

. . .

. . . .Exactly.

"Don't be silly, Videl. Is this what you're worried about?"

"You come back late at night with your clothes disheveled with no explanation of where you've been; half the time when you're here, you're not really here, you're stuck in that infinite head of yours thinking of Kami knows what—and yes, yes this is what I'm worried about! Gohan, this is never going to work if you don't even—!" Oh Kami, she's crying now. That obnoxious hiccupping sob where you try to hide it, but you can't because your shoulder are shaking so much you might dislocate it if you fought too hard.

I hate when she cries. I feel like such a douche when she does.

"I'm not thinking of other women, honey, sweetie, love of my life." I pulled her hands away from her face and held them in my own. She was trembling.

She took in several ragged breaths. "Then what are you?" Her eyes were so blue and bloodshot.

"I'm gay." Oh shit.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I just outed myself.

To my wife.

My WIFE.

What have I done? How is this going to end? What is she going to do? What if she tells my mother? She'll never forgive me. It's a good thing Dad is gone; I don't think he'd understand. And Pan? What will she think? Maybe she won't tell her. But if she does? What if she thinks I'm disgusting? I am disgusting. I almost forgot that I'm a horrible person. What's going to happen next? I haven't been smote by the fist of an angry god yet, so things are going pretty well, yes?

She's just staring at me with this horrified look on her face.

She looks away, still with the look.

Then she stood up. She straightened the pencil skirt she had on before turning and leaving.

I suddenly remembered what I had for breakfast.


	5. Hold Your Breath

"To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing." – UnknownAuthor

* * *

She didn't want to look at me for the rest of the day and I can't say that I blame her. I didn't want to look at myself either.

I tried not to say anything that would further upset her. I may not feel the same way about us, but that doesn't mean I have to be a jerk about it. She cries a lot now because she thinks everything I ever did and said to her was a lie. It wasn't. I did mean those things.

She is still and always will be the love of my life, but he's the other one. I need both. Don't look at me like that. I'm done denying my soul to conform to society. And I don't care if people can't handle this because it's not their burden to bear.

I told Pan to go back to her room. She's worried about mom. I can tell she's been crying herself. She doesn't know yet and I pray that she doesn't have to. But she can still hear Videl's cries echo throughout the house.

I feel like such an ass.

I guess I am.

I sat outside of my own bedroom for most of the night, just in case she wanted to talk. I didn't mention my feelings or how my intestines were constricting around my other organs and choking them like a snake. I am secondary now. They come first.

I slept on the couch that night. I'm guessing my wife left sometime after I had passed out. She left a note in the fridge that was taped to the orange juice carton. She knows me well. The note said she was leaving to stay with some friends for a couple days. She had taken Pan with her.

I found myself utterly alone when I needed someone the most.

It felt so dirty, but I had to see him. I needed someone to tell me that I was loved and valued. For one day I needed to feel important not because I am the son of Goku or married to the heiress of the Satan fortune, or even the world's most powerful being—I wanted to be important because I am Son Gohan, the nerdy, socially challenged, underpaid Literature teacher with glasses who just happens to be haphazardly involved with a seven foot tall bald, green, menacing alien.

But would he even want to see me? I know things have been different in the past couple days, but is this even the right thing to do? I mean, I've lost so much already. Well, I guess I think I've lost a lot. I don't know yet.

Videl technically hasn't left me, but if and when she does, she'll take this house and probably everything in it. The car as well, but I don't really need that much, considering. I'll still have my job as long as she doesn't go public with the impending divorce and get me fired from it. The administration has always been a bit on the conservative side and there are no laws saying that they can't fire me for being too 'liberal' with my personal life. Oh Kami, what if Pan's friends don't want to talk to her anymore or come over because I'm . . .She'll hate me. She'll hate me and tell me that I've ruined her life and that I should just leave. And Goten—he's too busy with his own life to really care, but he's still family. I don't want to get that phone call. He use to idolize me and now . . .

I can't handle this.

Where's that stupid dog, I need something soft and fuzzy to cuddle.

She took the dog too?

Damnit.

Sometimes I just wish I could stop being who I am, life would be so much simpler.

Making a sandwich helps my mood a lot, and that's exactly what I did. I don't care if people know I'm an emotional eater. I eat a lot anyway and I love sandwiches. There's nothing wrong with that.

I do my best thinking, well, normal thinking anyway, on the couch. It's a very comfortable spot and I'd highly recommend giving it a try. Having your eyes closed and being completely sprawled out on your couch is the only way to fly. I try to think of better things but I can't help but think of where I'm going to move out to. Maybe I could build a cottage or something in the forest. Yeah, it wouldn't be so bad. I'd have no problem gathering stone and I can buy new furniture and dig a well and get electricity and install the plumbing and, and, and. . . Well maybe I'm not that great of a homemaker.

I'd settle for an apartment in the city limits. You know, a tiny one-bedroom thing with a kitchen and a bathroom. The kind of thing you get when you're moving out of your parents' house for the first time and can barely afford to eat much less anything else. I'd pay for a nicer one if he'd come with me. Maybe we'd even get a condo or something. But he'd never do that. He can't survive in there. The world hasn't forgotten the reign of the terrible King Piccolo yet. Hell, it's even taught in sophomore history classes. Stigma is such an ugly thing. We're both victims to it.

Maybe I never wanted to be the hero of the day.

And maybe, just maybe I never wanted to be the scholar either.

I wanted to be an archeologist once—and an astronaut librarian cowboy too.

I can hear him come through the doorway. He'll only visit when I'm alone though. I use to think it was kind of sexy the way he'd wait till he had me by himself but later I figured out it was just a courtesy thing because he scares the shit out of my wife still. Pan's okay with it though. Uncle Pic', heh. Close.

His shoes make a distinctive sound on the carpet. I have never figured out what they're made of. Did you know he has toe claws? Yeah, it's kind of freaky. He has four toes too.

Don't think we ever did anything.

We haven't.

Believe me. I wish.

He won't let me because it still scares him.

And now he won't even touch me because he knows I've just eaten.

Take this as a lesson kids— Don't screw up. Ever.

He stands across from me not because he feels unwelcome to sit down, but because my furniture is 'too small' he says. He's absolutely right. This house was built to scale for my wife. Even my legs are sticking up awkwardly in these chairs and I'm barely to the six-oh mark. Okay, I lied. I just a little under it, but my hair gives me an extra little bit.

So he's standing there all huffy because I'm pretending I'm asleep and he knows I'm not. I'll never win this because he can stand and wait all day. I've tried this and I loose every time. I peek an eye open and look at him with this big, slowly emerging grin on my face. I must look like shit. I have that two-day old stubble, I haven't slept more than a wink, and to top it off I have mayo breath.

But I make it look good.

Ha.

"So." He said, expecting me to enlighten him as to why I'm collapsed on the couch on a Monday morn—

Monday.

Holy shit, it is Monday.

I forgot to go to work. Holy hell. Why haven't they called me and told me that I'm fired. Oh Kami. This is bad. This is more than bad this is horrible. Wait. Waaaait. It's not that bad there are plenty of T.A.s running around, they'll have no problem, I'm probably not fired, I'm probably not fired, I'm probably not fired because they have people to cover me and I'm never sick or late and I have everything nice and neatly planned and there's only one class I teach and it's just a lecture today. I have everything prepared and they'll just be very cross that I'm not there because I'm the head of the department and I do it the best and this is okay because my wife, my ex-wife, my significant other, my person's father is the holy grail of this school and it'll be A-Oh-Kay and why is Piccolo looking at me like I'm a two-headed gerbil?

Oh, right. The hyperventilation thing. I'm fine.

I just worry a lot.

I need to be medicated.

"I take it you finally told her?" His voice makes my breath hitch. For some reason I wasn't expecting him to say a word.

"Told her what?" I honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

He gave me this skeptical look before it registered.

"Oh, oh that." It was still embarrassing. "I kinda spilled the beans inopportunely."

"Mh." He shifted his weight slightly. "She stormed out of here at the crack of dawn dragging your daughter along." He was trying to get more out of me.

"I told her I was . . .Gay?" I didn't even want to say it to him

He quirked an eyebrow. I don't think he knew what the word meant. It would be silly of him to know, I mean, he never had to worry about labels or anything like that before . . .

"I told her that I love other men." And he gave me this whole other look like I was crazy.

That hurt a lot until I realized how I said it. I knew he wouldn't judge me like that.

"Well, just the one in here." He seemed less on edge then. I like to think of it as him being protective, but I think it's more that he knows I'm not going around guy to guy causing trouble for the establishment.

"All those curses were for me then?" He sounded so amused. Kami he was the most vague person on the planet when he wanted to be. I guessed my wife had left like a banshee crying out all kinds of blasphemous things as she departed. The mental image relieved some of the grim mood that was over me.

"I didn't exactly tell her it was you. I thought she knew but I don't think she does anymore." To which he nodded and made this guttural sound I have a hard time describing.

"You humans and your mating rituals." He scoffed. I always liked his brand of humor. I knew he was trying to cheer me up a little. I did look like something scraped out of a dumpster, anyway.

"Half-Human." I stuck my finger in the air for emphasis.

"I don't see why your attraction to other humans would matter. You all look the same to me." That felt so good to hear from someone. It was just sad that other people didn't see it in black and white this way.

But it made me think.

I hate my thoughts; I need to stop having them.

"Piccolo" My throat felt scratchy, like an insect had bitten it.

He tilted his head subtly and met my eyes.

"Did you really mean it when you said you'd stay with me?" This was going to be worth it.

"I can't leave you alone when you do this to yourself. I'd stay with you to make sure you didn't do anything stupid." Oh . . .

That was not the answer I was looking for.

"That's not what I meant." It wasn't. "I meant" I had to force myself to take a breath and slow my speech down before I spat it out in one long word. "Would you stay with me for me?"

Why didn't he say anything?

"I don't think Videl's going to want to stay married to me."

"Why?" Did I really have to explain this?

"Because I'm gay."

"And?"

This was so hard.

"It's not acceptable for a married man to—she just can't—it's not something that—It makes her feel ashamed." Which was true. She hated it . . . Maybe that's why she spent so much time preparing herself in the morning. I never ever gave her a compliment. Not once. I'm an ass.

He nodded once and exhaled sharply through his nose.

"It makes her feel like she wasn't good enough and that I've lied to her all these years. It makes her feel . . .feel like I've wasted her life for her and she doesn't think I'm sorry about it. She doesn't think that I'm hurting too. She just doesn't think about me in this whole mess because she's too caught up in her own little perfect world where things like this don't happen to her." My eyes stung like I wanted to cry and the lump in my chest prevented me from getting enough air to choke up a sob.

Piccolo did a rare thing then. He put his hand on my shoulder albeit roughly. Tenderness wasn't his thing but he so cautiously extended an offer of sympathy that it might as well have been a full-scale bear hug on his part. Being myself, I pulled him into me, my hands grasping on to the thick white material of his collar. He could have resisted, but his cape and armor would have been ripped off of him like rag doll clothes. Normally, he would have defended himself, at very least given me a nasty verbal spar, but he accepted this. I buried my face in his chest as my body heaved in ragged breaths.

I wasn't crying, just so you know. Well, not with the waterworks anyway. I needed the familiar comfort. I don't care if he was rolling his eyes or whatever. After about five minutes of this, he became tired of it. I felt his entire body shift into a more comfortable position on the couch and he let out a long sigh.

"Please tell me you care for me." I sounded so little and weak it was hard to believe that it was the voice of a grown man.

"If you don't know that I do by now then there's no hope for you, kid." I could feel the corners of my mouth pull into a faint smile when he said that.

"Could you ever think of me as more than just a kid?" I rested the side of my head against his chest so that I could look up into his eyes.

He had a frown on his lips but not in his eyes. "I did."

"Hm?"

"Once."

"Really."

His black eyes glanced down into mine. "Yes."

"When?"

He looked at the plate that my sandwich had been on. It was sitting on the coffee table next to us.

"A long time ago."

I winced, remembering the day.

"It's not like that."

"Feh."

"It doesn't generally go that badly, I promise."

"Just don't ever do that _thing_ to me again."

"What, you mean this?" I pulled myself up to kiss him and when I did, he spasmed like a fish out of water.

His entire body was so rigid in a brace against what he was expecting to be the second worst moment of his life. I felt his claws lightly scratch into my side as he tried to pull me off. He managed to lift half of my body off of him, but not detach me. When I finally broke the kiss, I let him shove me off. He wiped his lips with the back of his forearm before licking them gingerly with his tongue. It was a taste test of sorts. Then he paused and looked at me like he was morbidly surprised. I can't remember a time where his eyes have been wider.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Kami, now I'm giddy like on prom night in the back of the capsule car.

"It was a great improvement." But the tone he said that in didn't make it at all sound like he was enthralled with the whole idea.

"There are other things to do besides that." Whoa, whoa now. Where was this coming from all of the sudden? This isn't like me; I just don't make moves like that.

He cringed.

Oh for fuck's sake, I'll never eat breakfast again, all right?

But I had to be cool about it in my infinite uncoolness.

"You might like it if you'd give it a chance. Just saying." I flipped his turban off and bopped one of his antennae with my finger in what was suppose to be a coy gesture, but I swear that thing shied away at my touch and literally moved aside. That little shit.

"Gohan, not now." The seduction of the innocent wasn't working as well as it was suppose to.

"But you never refused before?" Now I was just a little confused.

"Before you did that out of curiosity. Now you're doing it for other reasons."

"You like it." I nearly pleaded. What part of this couldn't he understand?

"I don't want to like it." Ever have that stabbing pain in your chest?

Like you've been run through with a knife and it just keeps on going?

That's me right now.

I can still feel the blade cutting deeper.

Or maybe that's the sound of blood rushing through my ears.

I can even hear my heart beat

And my lungs cry for air.

"Gohan?" He says

And it just takes me a moment to realize what I've done.

* * *

Notes: I'd like to make the assumption that, when in Gohan's house, Piccolo would not wear his one ton armor. I do imagine that kind of weight shifting around the house would be very bad for the structure. Because of this, I've taken the liberty to just say that Piccolo wears lighter shoulder pads/armor when visiting, as to not destroy Gohan's humble abode. As for the vomit scene in chapter four, sorry about that, but it was the littlest of all the evils I had plotted out and it works for the progression of the story. If you only knew what could have happened, you'd be thankful. I really am a sick fuck /. Oh well. Finally, never fear, this is going to work out well. I'm not having something monumentally horrible happen; despite what the ending line says. It really DOES get better. I just have to have Gohan come full circle and learn the lesson he's suppose to before it does—which should be in about, oh, the next chapter. If you have any constructive criticism regarding the progression of things, I'd like to hear it. I'm going a bit out of my safety zone and would be glad to hear if I'm making the characters too ridiculous or whatnot. Toodles.


	6. That Kid

Dot Dot Dot That Kid Gets In The Way. End Quote

* * *

Lets not talk of this again, there's too much to cover.

She called me today. She didn't even sound upset. She said Pan was fine and that she went on a trip with some friends.

She said she wanted to meet me at the Café II around noon. I had taken my absence from school some time ago. I'm not even sure how long it's been. They weren't happy with me, but I don't care. When they questioned me about it, I put it very bluntly that I was going through a divorce and a psychiatric break simultaneously and they let me be.

When I got there she was in her business attire. Black skirt, black heels, tan pantyhose with black blazer over white blouse. Her hair was in a bun so tight it looked like it pulled her scalp back.

I looked like shit.

My shirt wasn't even tucked into my pants.

I slouched into my seat. She cleared her throat and graciously informed me that I was late. Again.

I checked my watch and damned if I wasn't.

She went on about how legal separation wasn't enough and she wanted to get on with her life. I nodded numbly.

She had some of the papers today. I took them and signed away without so much as a thought.

When she asked me why I didn't bother reading them I asked her what good it would do. She sighed and told me I needed to take this seriously. I told her I was and she called me a joke and jabbed at my appearance.

I just thought she was being a bitch.

I couldn't help but think that all this happening so fast was the result of her pent up aggression and hostility toward me. Next time I'll remember to put the toilet seat down and watch those chick flicks with you. This was happening way too fast to understand.

Come to think of it, she's probably had those papers for some time now. I handed them back and she checked them over to make sure I didn't forget anything. She put them in her briefcase bag thing. It was an odd, hideous item that probably came off designer shelves.

She hadn't told Pan yet. I had this gut feeling that she already knew though. The house was in her name and she had the right to sell it. She told me to go live with my lover. Her voice was so bitter it could have soured her low-fat, no-carb, ten-calorie, watered down soy mocha latte with ginger on top. I shouldn't be talking. I've drunk the same thing and liked it.

But I said nothing and just accepted what she had to say.

I hate myself sometimes, you know?

When I went home, I collapsed in our bed and cried. If anyone were to have walked in, I would have denied it. The roof leaks on my pillow. It's just one of those things. My cheeks are flushed because I have a fever. My eyes are bloodshot and puffy because I have allergies.

Piccolo came by about an hour after I got home. Most of the show was already over by then and I was laying in the fetal position clutching my pillow and making this pathetic raggedy whining sound when I couldn't take it anymore.

I sounded like a toddler who didn't get the candy he wanted.

I didn't want to feel anymore.

I had gotten what I wanted and I never felt worse.

I called my daughter when I got home. She was camping with some friends and they sounded like they were having a blast. It was some school trip thing about three hours away. I told her to be safe and have fun and that I missed her terribly. She said "Thanks dad, I love you, see you later!" and hung up. That's when I broke down.

Piccolo stood by the bed and just watched me. I didn't have to move to see the disappointment in his eyes. He eventually moved to sit next to me on the bed. He adjusted his weight awkwardly. He never did trust cushions with springs in them. He asked me what was wrong in his own special way—by making a discontent grunting noise in my general direction. I told him I wanted to be alone, which was only a half-truth.

He sighed and told me no.

I told him I was okay and that I just needed time.

He told me it's been three months.

He was a liar, it couldn't have been. Ridiculous.

I rolled over and covered my head with a blanket. I didn't want him to see me. I didn't want him to waste words on me.

And he didn't.

He picked me up by the belly and dragged me out of bed and across the hall, into the bathroom with it's huge picture mirror and made me look at myself. He _made_ me. What I saw terrified me.

I had the start of a scruffy beard forming, my hair had grown long and unkempt, it was almost to my chin now. The dark circles under my eyes looked like the result of playing in tar and I had grown thin.

It was disgusting. Even my teeth were yellowed. Kami.

"Gohan" he said neither sternly nor gently.

I looked at him with my mouth partially agape.

"Stop" and I nodded. I wanted him to tell me what to be.

He left me there and went back to my bedroom only to reappear with a shirt and pants and told me to clean myself up.

So I did.

It took me three hours before I felt better about myself. I hate that mirror and that damn glass shower door. I can see myself no matter where I go.

Goddamn, I'm a fur-bearing mammal. There's something about being a hybrid that can fuck you over in that manner. I'm pretty sure I shaved about half the surface of my body just so I felt a little younger, looked a little more attractive. My wife hated body hair and I don't think Pic approved either. I kinda liked it, but that didn't stop me from shaving my chest.

I hate cutting my hair. It always looks like I was run over with a lawnmower. I cut it a little too short this time and my razor wasn't as sharp as it needed to be, so it looked like I did a hack job to my face as well.

I'd live.

When I finally got out of the shower, I didn't bother getting dressed and came out in my towel. I wasn't trying to make a point or do anything drastic, I just liked air-drying. I like the feeling of water evaporating on my skin, it feel so clean.

Piccolo was meditating on my couch without his armor on. I think he can just will it to disappear. He opened his eyes and glanced at me and told me to get dressed.

I said no.

We never agreed on this sort of thing.

When I sat down next to him, he didn't acknowledge it. I leaned up against him and he shifted away from me. I felt like dying. I asked him how this was going to work out. He admitted that he didn't know.

I hated that.

One of us needed to know what was going on and it damn sure wasn't going to be me.

I told him to hold me and he gave me this look that he was going to say no then challenge me to a sparring match to the death.

Then he did it, albeit awkwardly. I nuzzled my way into his chest and he moved to accommodate me.

He needed a shower too. It should have bothered me that my cleanness was being invaded by his musky forestness, but it didn't.

I told him that I would talk him through it and that everything would be ok. He didn't seem keen on the idea. I tried to shift my way closer to him but he kept blocking me. I told him that I could win if I wanted to. He told me that I needed to get in shape.

But he noted that I could still beat him based on power alone.

I think it kind of bothered him in a way.

I kept at it though and he never completely gave up. I don't think 'quit' was in either of our vocabularies.

He'd never let me touch him the way I wanted to though.

I think it's partly because he feels so much older than me—because he is the teacher and I am the student. If only he realized that things aren't that simple.

We have rules about us. I can kiss him, but he can't kiss me. I can touch and pet him to a point, but he cannot reciprocate. He took a vow of inaction that makes my mind spin.

But one day, he'll break.

One day he'll be able to kiss me and he won't feel sick.

One day he'll be able to make love to me but we'll never have sex. I had plenty of sex with my wife and I felt nothing. I refuse to feel empty in this. I cannot repeat.

And one day, maybe, we'll have our own little place in the world.

Just us.

And that kid won't get in the way anymore.

* * *

Notes Hope you enjoyed this chapter; it took a little longer than I had expected to get up. It should be noted that there is a brief crossing of this story and my other story _Quote Unquote_. It's not going to span more than a sentence or two in subsequent chapters; it's more of a cameo thing, but should be entertaining nevertheless.


	7. Gone Baby Gone

Start Writing.

Yeah, I fucked him, but I'll never tell. The feel of his skin against mine and the dry, salty taste it left in my mouth. I promised that I wouldn't let anything happen to him. I sincerely regret doing that.

I think Pic will be okay though; we've talked through a lot of things.

I got my own place. Videl sold our house. My place is still pretty far out from the city, but close enough that it doesn't take much time to get to work.

My divorce was all over the papers. My daughter was furious. She said I was a jerk and that if I loved her and mom I wouldn't abandon them. She told me that she hoped I died and that she didn't care what happened to me because I obviously didn't care about her. I took every blow she could deal. She knows that I love her but she's just so upset about the divorce. When she calms down I'll make things right with her. She'd only get mad at me now.

Videl seems to be okay. She has her friends to help her.

Krillin and 18 stopped by to see how I was holding up, Trunks sent me an e-mail offering his sympathies. Krillin looks older than he did the last time I saw him. Come to think of it, he has to be somewhere in his sixties. 18 is still a bombshell though. They gave me their regards before leaving.

Sometimes I wonder where the others went. We aren't close anymore. It's just us around here. Our broken little family.

I'm glad she didn't tell them the actual reason for the divorce. Videl had told everyone it was because the relationship was unfulfilling and hinted to her friends that I was 'inadequate' in bed. It was damn cold of her, but I much preferred it to the alternative.

I finally did something for myself. I quit my job as a high school Lit. teacher and took a job at the university. It's closer to my new home and I really enjoy the environment. I've had several of my papers published before and they actually offered me the job about three years ago. I'm just glad they still wanted me and had a position open. It's been pretty nice; I like most of the people I work with.

Start holding your breath

Piccolo found out my little secret and it was devastating.

He didn't want to talk about it and left for a couple weeks.

He didn't want me to find him so I didn't look.

When he came back he said that he missed me.

He understands.

I'm so fucked.

We'll be okay now.

He doesn't mind.

Release

Videl called me yesterday. She wanted me to help her with something stupid. I refused. She broke up with me after all.

That's a selfish statement, but I'm claiming it.

I'll help her if she actually needs it but I refuse to be her puppet.

So I bought Pan a laptop because Videl said she couldn't have one because she flunked AP Calculus. I'm a teacher and I know my daughter enough to say that there is nothing in life that she will ever need to do that will involve calculus. She's a trust-fund baby.

But that's not the reason I'm here today.

I need to tell someone about the straw that broke the camel's back

You want to know more about my sex life.

I wouldn't blame you, it's been interesting.

Piccolo isn't a receptive partner. I never expected him to be

Being a Namek, I don't think he has the urges that the rest of us do. He never wants to kiss me. Sometimes he brushes his lips against my cheek but when I try to kiss him on the lips, he pulls away.

On those days I try not to eat when I'm around him. I don't want him to think anything bad will happen. I get tired on those days but it's okay. He'll let me touch him now.

He has needs like the rest of us. I try to fulfill each and every one of them.

I've had this fantasy of feeling what He's like, but that won't happen in the way I want it to. It's just not possible and that crushed me.

_When I remember the feel of his skin._

_And the taste of his sweat on my tongue—sea salt._

It's not the same.

He'll let me touch him now. I offered to let him touch me and he refused and refused until one day he caved.

When I asked him why he so fervently refused before he said he felt like he was breaking his promise.

"What promise?" I asked

He said the promise to protect me.

"Do you love me?"

He said "yes"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes"

"Do you want to be with me?"

And he paused ". . .yes"

"Let me?"

A nod.

He still has bruises on his hips and stomach where I've inadvertently. . .

He hates when I do that.

I love it.

I love to break things and mend them.

I can make everything better with time.

We've been together once.

_I'm not prepared_

It's not like him.

It wasn't what I expected.

It was better but the back of my mind was panged with guilt.

I shouldn't have worried about that. We still have time to forgive eachother.

We started training that afternoon. It was humid and raining. I would have much rather been sitting inside reading a book if that tells you what kind of muggy day this was. It didn't faze him though. I was drenched in sweat before we even started. And he made sure that we never quit early. The night was half gone before I realized it and I was too sore to care. I beat him, of course, but I had grown lax and he was still in peak condition. I was his piñata.

_The way his spine curves and his muscles flex and release. I've seen it before._

_I'll always look._

He started to clean up after the match and I just stared at him. He noticed and returned the gesture. There was something behind his eyes that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Never did he reprimand me or tell me that my gaze was unwanted. He stared back at me and I got déjà vu.

It scared the living hell out of me.

He was under me before I realized it.

_I felt sick_

I had to relive it.

_I started by rubbing his legs to calm him down._

They were hard, rough, leathery things like they were supposed to be.

I kissed down his chest- sculpted like marble.

This was so different.

_He's not a soft man._

His body is so rough and war torn that I don't know what to do at first out of shock

Keep it together man.

Oh Kami.

How is he so calm about this?

_He's not tense._

He'll be comfortable.

He's only doing it because he knows I want it.

_It'll only hurt for a minute._

Can he hear the blood rush through his eardrums too?

And then I remembered.

_I shift to my knees and drag him with me. His face is buried in my shoulder. I can tell by the heat of his cheeks that he's upset. I have to be careful now._

When I opened my eyes I see His face looking back at me. I can tell that it hurts. I kept on telling him that it'll get better that he's just not use to this.

I'll be damned if I accept that I may not have as much experience as I need.

I bit down on hard on his ear. He bit his lip to contain his cry. I did it too roughly, but it wasn't like before. He bled a little but it wasn't bad.

My heart can't take much more of this.

I'm sweating bullets and I can't stop.

There's something primal about this feeling that's boiling inside me.

We weren't meant for this.

I've done it now.

And he looks at me through those _glass eyes._

_Like a vice grip._

It's all too familiar.

I can still taste his blood on my lips.

And feel the trails of scars he left on my back.

Forgotten love marks have faded.

There's a first time for everything.

I fucked Him and he knows it.

And he liked it.

And He will never have to know, even when he already does.

Gone, Baby, Gone

Notes: The inconsistencies in this chapter are put there for a reason and have a valid point. They are not actual inconsistent, they're merely referencing other untold events. This chapter is a lot darker than I presume most of you will think at first. I have this problem with being subtle. As much as I would like to wave the red flag in your face, it'd ruin the anonymity of the story. If you can figure out what the hidden context of this story is, I'll throw in the cut out sex scene from this chapter as part of the next. There are hints of it littered throughout the entire text. If you don't understand, don't worry. The resolution of the story, which is a few chapters away, will tell all.


	8. Morning After

I fucked up.

I called my wife by his name while we were having sex.

I fucked up big time.

At first I thought she didn't hear me. There was this odd silence but she hesitated for a few seconds. She didn't even have to say anything after that, I just stopped myself and got off of her. She sat up and I retreated to my corner of the bed and made sure I wasn't facing her.

"Piccolo?" She asked.

She didn't sound as angry or hurt as I thought she would be—as I would be if she called me by someone else's name.

"Yeah. . ." I couldn't very well deny it so I tried muttering under my breath.

She sighed and I felt her weight ease up off of the bed. I think she is going downstairs to cool off. I felt like such a dick.

Videl, for all her strengths that I admire, has never been overly crazy about having sex. When she actually suggested it tonight, without me pressuring her, I managed to do the one thing that assures that my spot in her bed will not be needed for a long, long. . .long time.

She had seemingly come to terms with my professed attraction to the man. The way she sees it, I'm only attracted to 'that one guy' as opposed to every guy on the planet. And she's pretty much right. I don't know what to call myself on that one. I generally prefer the intimate company of women, and by women, I mean my wife. By wife, I mean the bi-annual sex that comes on my birthday and on our anniversary. She was shaking things up tonight, trying to throw me off schedule.

Anyway, I'm sure you've been able to conceive the notion that I have pissed my Honey Dearest off.

I doubt my explaining things any more will instill you with greater knowledge of my relationship with her. Just don't think that I don't love her. I do. It's just trying.

The thing that's really drawn hairs is Piccolo.

I know no one would suspect him of being the person to agitate the water, but he is. It's just because he's so. . .unassuming. I mean, if the man got caught with his hand in a cookie jar, I doubt anyone would think he did it. He hates cookies. Okay, that was a bad example, but you get my point. No one thinks to blame him for it.

But that's not the point, Gohan, and it doesn't matter anymore.

If you would just wake up and breathe in the scent of your bed sheets you could tell that she's gone. But you won't do that Gohan because you're afraid. You're afraid of making this all to real, of waking up and finding yourself just as alone as when you began this memory.

You didn't fuck your wife last night.

And that's not lipstick on your neck, that's blood.

The smell hanging in the air isn't of her jasmine perfume. In fact, it's decidedly the opposite. It smells like your childhood and it's almost enough to churn your stomach.

You could hate yourself for it if you didn't enjoy it so much. On second thought that makes it even worse. You see him lying next to you but he wasn't the first. There was one other before him and you won't tell him even though he knows. You're a horrible person Charlie Brown and you're going to hell. You hurt him because you were too rough and you knew he wasn't ready or willing for this but he let you anyway. You took advantage of your friend because he just wanted to see you happy again because it was tearing him up inside seeing you like this. You did it. You're to blame. If he never wants to see you again it's all your fault.

How could you?

But he's awake now and looking directly at you. He doesn't seem to be angry. He sits up slowly as though the action is painful to him. You did hurt him and feel terrible but at the same time are relieved that he stayed the night by your side. This could still work, you know?

Just remember, don't fuck up.

You ask him how he feels and he gives a mild grunt in reply. You can feel your palms start to sweat and you go to rub them on your pants but you're naked and suddenly embarrassed about it. God forbid he sees your penis. He shifts to his knees before pushing up into a stand. He gathers his clothing and begins putting it back on. There's an awkward silence that follows. You don't know what else to do because you're afraid to upset him so you get dressed as well. He starts walking away without saying a word and you feel that all too familiar lump in the back of your throat. You speak but you don't recognize it as your own voice, it's far too strained like you're starting to cry, but you refuse to acknowledge that possibility. You told him to wait; to not leave you here like this. He stopped walking and partially turned to face you. He could have written the book on apathy.

"I am not leaving you." He paused and continued on his way, speaking to you with his back turned "I need some time to think about things."

"What kind of things?" Your voice is exasperated and desperate, not your proudest moment.

"Complicated things." You let him go after this because you knew if you kept pushing the farther you'd push yourself away from him and you can't stand it.

You loose sight of him. There's nothing left for you here. Did he want it like this? No, you're just being overly concerned. You should go home now and apologize to the other one. You can tell that he's probably close by. You need to tell him that he should go home and when he tells you that home is nowhere you need to be adamant with him because this is unacceptable. You don't care about the other one because you have Pic' and there's nothing more that you could ever want.

And it's about time you ran that damn kid off.

* * *

Mini chapter. I couldn't quite get out what I wanted to in this one without making it long and tedious. The end is near and it needs to be written properly. If it was unclear at the beginning, Gohan is having a bit of a nightmare/flashback to a previous encounter with Videl. PS. I don't own copyrights.


	9. Better Days

Breathe in and wait.

Keep holding it.

Does it burn yet?

Good, don't stop.

If you stop then you have to face life again. Close your eyes and keep them shut. You can feel the faint wetness of your tongue running over their parched lips. The sudden frenzy of loneliness that has overcome you makes it too much to bear. Why didn't you go to Piccolo? He needs you. He will never admit to it but he needs you so badly right now. He's confused and doesn't understand, but you tried to show him, you were too eager. You are such a stupid, eager child and you hurt him. Keep holding your breath, you're almost there and Kami you miss him.

What if he doesn't want to speak to you again? Your beautiful wife already made it clear that she's had enough of your foolishness—no, must not think of these things now, just keep holding your breath until your body screams for air and then hold it a bit longer.

The muscles in your stomach clench and your body starts seizing up. You're almost there. Is it starting to feel good yet? You can't feel the back of your head anymore and bite your lip hard, arching your back as your lungs feel like they're trying to claw their way out of your chest. Just a second more, you're doing great.

Does he miss you? I wonder if he's still mad. He was mad before, I could feel it and Kami I need him.

He's the only person in the whole world that would take me now.

Congratulations kid, you're a winner.

Release.

Let the breath go.

The air comes back in rapid, panting breaths, your stomach hurts and you can't quite feel the tips of your fingers, but it was worth it.

It felt like being close to him for a moment.

Roll over; cradle the pillows on your bed. What are you going to do with your life, Gohan? You're too much of a chicken shit to call your family. You know they care about you. Even Videl cares about you but she couldn't take it anymore. You drover her away; it was all you.

You should ask him. You've already started it, you should ask him. I mean, the worst he can do is reject you?

No, that's a lie.

He can rip out your damn heart without even moving.

Do it anyway. It's worth the risk, Gohan. You can do it.

I roll over again, restless.

I can't go on like this.

That's it.

I roll out of bed, damn near landing flat on my ass on the floor. My legs fell partially asleep when I least expected them to. Groaning, I get up and go to the closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and casual shirt. I'd dress up if I thought it'd impress him, but I know it won't.

I slipped one leg into my pants then the other, narrowly avoiding toppling over. I had no more pulled my zipper up when I heard someone rattle on the doorframe with their knuckles.

It was Piccolo. How long had he been watching me? I tried to play it cool and button my pants nonchalantly, but the button didn't want to cooperate.

He seemed amused and let himself into the room.

I backed into the bed and crumpled down. If he was here then he obviously had something to say. My heart was pounding like crazy and I was trying to act like nothing was bothering me as I watched him from across the room. He wasn't getting closer and he was barely inside the threshold.

But his arms weren't crossed, so he wasn't mad. That's one less thing to worry about. In fact, he seemed oddly relaxed, like he was at peace with something.

Oh, how fragile my hopes can be.

He isn't speaking. He's just standing there, looking at me and I can't read that look.

"I'm sorr—" I start but he silences me with a look.

"You apologize too much." He bluntly pointed out and moved to stand by the foot of the bed.

"I know." I couldn't very well deny it.

"The worst is always on your mind, kid. If I were angry with you, I wouldn't be here."

I nodded he had a point.

He only grunted in response.

"So you're not mad?"

Piccolo looked contemplative for a moment. The corner of his lip twitched as it often did when he found something particularly hard to swallow. It made my stomach feel numb.

"I don't understand you people and your needs." As he spoke, my heart sank. I felt like a child being yelled at for wetting himself.

"But—" he continued. I picked my eyes off of the floor to look at him. "I know you and I am willing to try."

My jaw dropped. Was he saying what I thought he said? I can feel my heart beating so hard it feels like it's going to burst out of my chest. He's standing there like nothing happened and I'm so happy that nothing else matters anymore.

"You'll . . . You'll stay with me?" I stammered, too anxious to properly collect myself.

He smirked weakly and gave a curt nod.

I didn't care if he thought I was attacking him, I lunged forward and drew him into a tight hug. I could feel his ribs compacting under my embrace. His whole body was tense and it was like cuddling a statue, but I didn't care as long as I had him. My body shook and I buried my head under his neck. I was shaking so damn hard I thought I was going to cry.

For the first time in years I feel like I am exactly where I need to be.

Piccolo relaxes and sets his hand on my naked back, rubbing it gently. His heartbeat is so stable, like a metronome while mine is pounding like a rabbit's. I draw myself in closer to him. I'm expecting to be pushed away for being oversentimental and emotional, but he doesn't. He only chuckles. It's a low, deep sound, yet soft, like distant thunder. I never want this to end. I'd sooner die than let it.

I silently looked up at him through bloodshot and weary eyes. I looked like hell and I knew it. He didn't mind.

"Is this going to become a common occurrence, kid?" I could feel his claws gently trace my spine, tickling me.

I stifled a laugh and nuzzled my way back under his chin.

"A lot of things are going to change. It's going to be hard." I said and for the first time in my life, I didn't fear the change.

I didn't fear anything in this moment.

His chest rumbled slightly but he didn't say anything. He knew it as well as I did.

"I love you, Piccolo." And that's all that mattered.

"I love you too, kid."

Things were going to be better.

* * *

Chapter 10 in the makings, but I'm open to suggestions and would be grateful for them!


End file.
